Page 8 of Mine To Honor (Southern Wedding)

That was this morning at seven and nothing all day. I put the phone to the side as I grab the bottle of beer, taking another pull when I hear the soft knock of the door. Putting the beer back down on the counter, I look over at the hallway to see if maybe I made a mistake when the knock comes even harder this time. I round the corner and unlock the door, pulling it open without looking into the peephole. My mouth hangs open when I see her standing there. She’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. Her hair is piled on top of her head, not a stitch of makeup on her face. Her eyes are red from crying, no doubt, and she looks like she hasn’t slept all night, but she still looks beautiful as she holds two brown takeout bags in her hands.

“Hey,” Eva greets softly as she walks into the house.

“Hey.” I open my arms for her and she walks into them as I wrap my arms around her shoulders. “I was worried about you.”

“Sorry.” She steps out of my arms. “I was going to text you, but one thing led to another and another, and well, here I am.” I watch her eyes as she blinks them really, really fast, right before I know she’s going to cry. I put my arm around her as I walk her toward the kitchen. “I brought you dinner.”

“You are a godsend,” I tell her as my hand drops from her shoulders as she walks to the island, putting the bags on top of it. “What did you get?”

She looks over her shoulder, smirking. “You really think you need to be picky right now?” she asks with a chuckle, and I can’t help but put my hands on my hips.

“I’m not being picky.” I tilt my head. “I was being excited.” I clap my hands together. “What did you get?” My chipper voice sounds fake.

“Ass,” she mumbles, turning her attention back to the bags. “I’m going to just eat all this food myself.”

She looks over her shoulder at me. “You can have that frozen pizza in the oven. That probably has been in your freezer for the past six months.”

I pfft out at her. “No, it hasn’t,” I retort, not even sure I believe myself since I don’t think I’ve been home more than twenty days in the past four months.

She takes the brown containers out. “That’s a lie and even you know it.” She looks down at the four containers she has taken out of the bags. “Now because I’m the best friend and bessst person you’ve ever met.” She drags out the word best as she smiles sweetly, before turning and walking over to the drawers to grab a couple of forks and knives. She pushes the drawer closed with her hip. “I will share with you the food I bought for you.” She moves over to the oven and turns it off. “Don’t forget to throw that out later or else it’ll still be in there at Thanksgiving.”

“I’m not that bad.” I roll my eyes at her and she just raises her eyebrows as she comes closer to me. I pull out one of the two stools for her to sit on before pulling out the second one for me. We sit down at the same time and I reach out to grab the first closed container. “This one is light,” I note, opening it and seeing that it’s a salad. “Eww.” I toss it to her. “That’s yours for sure.”

“There is nothing wrong with a salad, Levi,” she declares as she takes the container from me and I grab the other one.

“Now this one must be mine,” I decide, feeling how heavy it is as I open it and see it’s chicken parm with a side of pasta. “Yup, mine.”

“You didn’t even see what is in the other ones.” She points at the other two that are on the counter. “What if that was mine?”

“Then I would say I really hope there’s another one of those that has this in it.” I point down to the container in front of me.

“You’re the worst,” she says, leaning forward to grab the other one and when she opens it my mouth waters. “This is not for you.” She side-eyes me, putting the shrimp scampi on pasta to the side of her salad. Grabbing the other one, I watch to see what was behind door number three that, apparently, I lost. My mouth waters even more when I see that it’s a huge meatball smothered in sauce with a side of ricotta.

“That’s to share.” I grab a fork and knife from beside her. “No way can you eat all that meat.”

“I can eat plenty of meat,” she retorts, snickering as I stay still when I look over at her. “I might not like balls in my face, but I’m very okay with meat.”

“Eeew.” I fake vomiting while I cut a piece of chicken. “I never want to have a picture of you with balls in your face and meat.”

“The balls are not in my face,” she reminds me, grabbing the shrimp plate, “they are usually on my chin.” She twirls the spaghetti on her spoon. “Unless it’s like upside down and the balls are in my face.”

“Are you trying to make me give up this chicken parm?” I ask as I put a piece in my mouth. “Because it’s not working.” I grab another piece of chicken, looking over at her. “How are you doing, for real?”

“I think I’m still in shock.” She avoids looking at me. “It’s strange, I know. It’s not like we grew up together or anything like that.” She shrugs.

“She was still your sister,” I say softly.

“I know,” she murmurs and I see her pushing her food around in front of her, “and she was really an amazing person, even with all the shit that was thrown at her.” Her fork drops from her hands, and she wipes a tear away from her cheek. “My heart is broken for Cici because she’ll never know.”

I drop my own fork and put my arm around her shoulders, bringing her to me as I kiss her temple. “I have no doubt you are going to make sure she doesn’t forget her.” I put my head on top of hers.

She takes a deep inhale and I let her go, picking up my fork again. “I met with my lawyer today.”

I stare at her. “Why didn’t you call me?” She just shrugs and I know this shouldn’t surprise me since she is always used to doing things on her own, but I’m pissed I couldn’t be there for her. “You should have called me.”

"It’s okay.” She avoids looking at me. “She’s a lawyer who is also my client.”

“That’s good.” I twirl some spaghetti on my fork. “What did she say?” I ask before I put the forkful in my mouth.

---